Thuds echo around me, pulsing in my ears. Was that my heartbeat? Surely not, as I'm certain there was no heart left in my chest to beat. Jimin had made sure of that. Burrowing further into the cocoon of blankets around me, I clench my eyes shut, hoping that the noise would fade into the background. After a few minutes, it does. The pounding cuts off completely, a comforting silence settling down around me.

At least until the shouting started.

"Yoongi, I swear to god, if you don't open this damn door," Namjoon yells, his voice muffled. I roll over, ignoring him. I had been doing that a lot these passed few days.

Wait… How long has it been like this? Has it been days? I'm not even sure anymore.

It's hard to keep track of time when all you want it to do is stop. I've been in an unending cycle of sleep, pout, and sleep some more. Sometimes I would sneak food into the cycle, but it wasn't very often. Maybe that's why I felt so sick? Or it could just be giant hole in my heart that's making me feel so miserable.

I hear a muffled groan from the door. This was usually the point where Namjoon got too frustrated and left. I wait to hear his footsteps walking away, but they don't.

Ohhh, he's awfully determined today.

"Yoongi," he exclaims, pounding the door once again, "Just open the door, please. You've been in there for two weeks."

Two weeks?

Has it really only been that short of a time? I feel like I have been here forever, lost in a sea of pain that has no ending, my only life raft long gone.

"Just let me know you're at least alive," Namjoon begs. Choosing not to reply, I cover my head, retreating into the darkness. I picture my happy place, something that I've been doing almost constantly these days, preferring to lose myself in the imaginary arms of Jimin than to accept that I would never actually have that.

A jingling catches my attention, but I brush it off, trying to keep the image of Jimin and I together in my head for as long as possible. Light suddenly crashes in around me as the blankets are ripped from me. Cracking one eye open, I look up from my position on the floor, meeting Namjoon's furious gaze, which softens when he takes a look at me.

Pity washes over his features as he bundles the blankets up in his arms, sliding down to sit beside me on the floor. "What are you doing, Yoongi?" he asks softly, as if he was afraid to scare me.

Closing my eyes, I shrug, my shoulders dragging on the carpet underneath me. "I don't know what you mean, Namjoon."

He sighs, "I mean, why are you on the floor of your living room? You're not even on the couch, you're all the way over here by the wall. Why, Yoongi?"

Because when I'm near the wall, sometimes I get glimpses of color when Jimin ventures too close.

I can't tell Namjoon that, but I can't stop my eyes from opening and drifting to the wall. Namjoon's hand ruffles my hair, his fingers tangling in the greasy locks.

"It's because of Jimi-"

"We don't say that name in this house," I interrupt, unwilling to hear anything him.

"Okay," he says slowly, confused. He sighs and I turn my head back towards him, the soft fabric of the carpet brushing against my cheek. "It's been two weeks, Yoongi. Jin and I hadn't heard anything from you. I tried to call, but you never answered. We've been so worried," he admits, his voice shaky. "At first we thought maybe you and Jimi-" I glare at him, and he rethinks his words before continuing on. "We thought that maybe you and you-know-who has just gotten on really well. But then we saw you-know-who, he looks almost as bad as you do by the way, and we knew something was wrong."

I scoff, bitterness rising in me. "He looks almost as bad as I do? I highly doubt that."

"What happened, Yoongi?"

"HE LEFT ME THAT'S WHAT HAPPENED!" I yell, all the emotions I'd pent up breaking out at the admission. Tears ran down my face, dripping to stain the carpet beneath me.

"Yoongi," Namjoon whispered. He wrapped his arms around me, lifting me to him as if I weighed nothing. I felt a sting in my stomach when he squeezed me, but kept quiet. "I'm so sorry," he apologizes, holding me to him. We stayed like that for a while, him hugging me as silent tears tracked their way down my cheeks, soaking his shirt. After a few minutes my tears stopped and he held me away from him, his nose scrunched.

"No offense, Yoongi. But you smell horrible," he says, his nose scrunching even farther.

I shrug, "That's what two weeks without showering will do to you."

His eyes widen, "You haven't showered in these whole two weeks?"

I pout, "Oh yes, because showering was the first thing on my mind, Namjoon."

He narrows his eyes at me, then stands, throwing me over his shoulder. I hit his back, too weak to make much of a difference as he walked through my house.

"Hey," I cried. "What do you think you're doing?"

"You need to shower," he points out. I hear a door squeak open and the sound of his shoes on tiles as he walks into the bathroom. He places me in the shower and turns the knob, moving quickly out of the way to avoid getting wet.

I hiss as the cold water hits me, soaking my clothes to my skin. "Ah, Namjoon! What the fuck!" I yell, jumping out of the shower. I glare at him as water drips off of me, puddling on the floor beneath me.

He shrugs. "You weren't going to shower on your own," he says, as if that fixes everything.

"Fine. I'll shower," A triumphant look passes over his face, and he leaves me alone in the bathroom. I peel the soaked clothes off, looking at them in distaste as I throw them into the hamper. I grab some towels, nausea rolling through me. I take deep breaths, warding it away. I've done it so many times in the passed two weeks that it was like second nature now. I jump in the shower, washing myself quickly. Wrapping a towel around my waist, I step out. I look to the counter, seeing a pile of new clothes.

Namjoon must've grabbed them.

I frown at the clothes, wishing that I could wear my silk PJ's instead of these cursed skinny jeans. Resigning myself to my fate, I slide them on quickly, trying to not to focus on how these were the exact pants I wore when I met Jimin for the first time. When I was dressed, I walked into my bedroom.

Namjoon sits on my bed, my now charging phone dangling from his fingers. At the sound of my entrance he looks up, his brow quirking. "114 missed calls, Yoongi," he says, surprised. "114 calls, and you didn't answer a single one of them." I shrug, the casual response eliciting a groan from my friend. "Your poor mom probably thinks you're dead."

"My "poor mom" would probably rather me be dead than be without my soulmate. Which I am now, by the way. I'm completely alone now," I say bitterly.

Hurt flashes across his face. "You have me, Yoongi," he says quietly, offended.

"I know, Namjoon. You know that's not what I meant."

"You're not all alone. There are plenty of people in the world." His eyes glance around nervously. I look at him, suspicious. Seeing my look, he sighs. "There's even still Hoseok, Yoongi." I glare at him, heat rising in my cheeks. He throws his hands up in defense, scooting back further on the bed. "I didn't want to bring it up," he says. "But he's been asking me about you. He's really worried. He seems to care a lot. Is it such a bad thing to just be with someone who cares about you?"

I tried to picture being in a relationship with Hoseok, but my heart clenches and my brain rebels, instead placing Jimin in his place. I shake my head, trying again. When the same result happens, I groan. I plop down on the bed next to Namjoon who is watching me warily.

"I-I don't know if I can do that," I admit, covering my face with my hands. Namjoon nods in understanding, but I don't think he really gets it. "It's not that Hoseok is a bad person, or that I'm not attracted to him," I explain. "But it's more like you-know-who has ruined it for me." Namjoon looks at me, confused. "If I'm with Hoseok, I'll still be able to see color and I might be happy. And that should be enough right? I mean, after all, we are soulmates. But it's not. I'll just always think about how I could see more if Jimin was there. And then I'd wonder where he is, who he's with." I smile sadly, finally accepting the situation. "I love Jimin, he doesn't love me back, and it's ruined it for me."

Namjoon places his hand on my knees, squeezing slightly, to comfort me. "So what are you going to do now?" he asks quietly.

"First things first," I say, giving his hand a squeeze before standing. "I need to go talk to Hoseok."